The Cupboard Under the Stairs
by swim freak 9000
Summary: What if Harry is still in that cupboard under the stairs? O.o A strange ending to the HP series. I don't care if you read, just review.


**A/N: Yeah, I found the theory that I put for the summary in some random book (forgot the title) and I don't like it but thought it was really cool, hence the fic.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not matter how much I want to. Ah well, one can always dream…**

Inspector Dumbledore arrived at number four Privet drive just past midnight. He sighed as he saw the many police cars and ambulances parked in front of the house, and wondered why he had even agreed to look into the Potter case.

He passed the chief of police, Rufus Scrimgeour (who recently replaced Chief Fudge) and made his way up to Officer McGonagall and Officer Hagrid.

"Evening," he said as he nodded toward them.

Officer Minerva McGonagall promptly burst into tears and threw her arms around him. "Albus! We haven't seen you forever, and after we heard that that horrible criminal, Snake or Snape or Snore, I can't remember the name, shot you, we thought you were dead!"

"Mmphhh…" replied Dumbledore.

"Oh, sorry Inspector," said McGonagall as she released him.

Dumbledore straightened his tie. "No ma'am, as you can see, I'm alive and well."

"Good ter see that, Dumbledore," said Hagrid as he clapped the old man on the back.

"Same to you, Hagrid. Now then, is there anything you can tell me about this whole mess thus far?"

Hagrid glanced down at his notes. "Lemme see…well, it seems Mr. an Mrs. Dursley 'ave bin takin' care o' this kid, Harry Potter, ever since 'is mum and dad died 'bout…well, I'd say about seventeen years ago. They died along with countless others while that serial killer Tom Riddle was at large. And sir, they 'aven't exactly been treatin' him right. Remind him he's less than dirt ev'ry day, never kept him healthy, you ought ter see 'im sir, poor kid's just skin an bones, and well, he's been abused and treated horr'bly for so long that finally, it seems he jus' snapped."

McGonagall cut in, "Actually, the neighbors have been reporting that they think he went crazy when he was about eleven, when one of them found him wandering around their basement, staring at this old mirror. When he was twelve, another neighbor reported seeing him spending hours in the backyard, trying to talk to snakes and looking through what seemed to be old journals. At thirteen he was found in an empty house down the street, talking to himself, a big grey dog, another dog, a black one, and a rat. Just a year later he was seen in a government building, shouting something about a man named Sirius and pointing a stick and shouting nonsense words at everyone. Just a year ago he was found in an old cave, next to an underground lake, with a locket he was trying to destroy. Today the neighbors finally got fed up with him and that strange family, and called the police after he started screaming "Death Eater! Death Eater!" at their little boy, Draco. Neighbors also reported hearing screaming coming from the house. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, along with their son, Dudley, were taken into custody about an hour ago. They really put up a fight, we had to send the dogs after them."

"Which dogs?" asked Hagrid. "Not Fang or Fluffy, they still need some more trainin'!"

"No, I believe it was Sirius and Remus."

"Ah yes, great dogs. Well, more like wolves. Anyway, they've been in the Order for years. Order of the Pheonix, the highest award a dog can get."

"Where's the boy now?" asked Inspector Dumbledore.

"Inside, in the cupboard under the stairs, sleepin'. It seems he locked 'imself in, and they're trying to figure out how to get in without scarin' 'im ter much," replied Hagrid.

"And the Dursleys?"

"They're over there, sittin' on that bench by that reporter, Rita something or another."

"A reporter? Get her out of here. She shouldn't be here at all. The last thing we need right now is more of the press."

"Yessir." Hagrid

"McGonagall?"

"Sir?"

"Are we allowed in? I'd like to see the boy."

"Yes, right this way Dumbledore."

The inspector followed her inside and into the living room, where a skinny boy of seventeen was sitting on the couch."

"We finally got him out of that cupboard, sir," said an official-looking man with wild red hair.

"Thank you Percy. Now if it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you get your mother?"

"My mother, sir?"

"She is a therapist, isn't she? I think she may be able to help us."

The man nodded and went outside as Dumbledore turned to the boy in front of him.

"Harry?" he asked gently.

"Who are you?" asked the boy.

"I am Albus Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore! You're alive! I can't believe it, I swear I'm going to murder Snape. Right along with Voldemort."

"Voldemort?"

"Yes."

"Harry, "Voldemort", the name given to a serial killer, has been dead for years."

"No sir! I saw him come back! That night at the graveyard, with Cedric Diggory, and…and…Peter Pettigrew!"

Dumbledore leaned over to McGonagall. "Cedric Diggory and Peter Pettigrew. Go look those names up, would you?"

McGonagall nodded and left.

Dumbledore turned back to Harry. "Continue."

"But Professor, we've been over this before! In your office, and while we were looking for the locket!"

"The locket? In a cave?"

"Yes, by a lake, don't you remember?"

At that moment Hagrid and Molly Weasley, an accomplished and maternal woman with degrees in therapy, medicine, and law, walked in. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes Molly, have a seat."  
"Mrs. Weasley!" cried Harry. "How are you? How's Ron? How're Bill and Fleur?"  
The blood drained out of Molly's face. "How do you know about them?"

"There there Molly, it's fine. Harry, I want you to tell us everything that's happened to you ever since your eleventh birthday."

The boy went on to spin an elaborate tale, all about magic, a place called Hogwarts, and Lord Voldemort. For the sake of time, energy, and space, I will spare you his story.

When Harry finished Dumbledore turned to Molly. "What does it mean?"

"Well, sir, it seems that, after being abused for so long, he finally found a way to escape. He made up this world, where he was loved, where he was special, a talented child, with loyal best friends, and of course a worst enemy, so it really could be real, and magic around every corner. This poor boy must have been alone for a long time, in that cupboard under the stairs."

"WHAT? What are you talking about? Didn't you here what I just said? What's the matter with you two?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, Mrs. Weasley is incredibly tired. She's been up all night on…guard duty. Please follow Hagrid outside now."

Harry got up and followed the man outside the door.

"Well, that's it then," sighed Dumbledore.

"You know, Albus, I really hate these cases. Those poor children break my heart."

"I know Molly, but," he stood up, "it's our job. I'm going to go talk to Rufus now, I assume I'll see you again relatively soon. Night."

He walked outside toward Chief Scrimgeour. "Rufus?"

"Yes?"

"For the Dursleys, I suggest prison, for their son some kind of detention center, and for Harry a life long stay in a mental institution."

"They haven't even been on trial yet, Dumbledore."

"Trust me, after five minutes of listening to that kid, and after all the neighbors testify, there's no way we can lose."

"I sure hope you're right Albus."

"Have I ever been wrong?"

**A/N: O.o Well, yeah. Disturbing theory, I know, but still…pretty interesting.  
**

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